


In A Hundred Lifetimes

by Just A Couple Of Death Priests (WalkOnThroughARedParade)



Series: Written In The Stars [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: 50 points if you can guess who 'Quinn' is, M/M, Modern AU, This feels so rushed but honestly I'm just glad I've got it out of the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkOnThroughARedParade/pseuds/Just%20A%20Couple%20Of%20Death%20Priests
Summary: “I am not sighing wistfully,” Talon protested, scowling at her; and when she just grinned back at him he sighed, and looked away again, “I just...he was really fucking cute, okay? Ass you could bounce a coin off, too, so forgive me for kicking myself for not managing to get his number.”Alternatively;In Which Talon Needs Coffee





	In A Hundred Lifetimes

Talon scrubbed a hand back through his hair, yawning before he moved to tie it back in a quick, sloppy bun on the back of his head; and blinked again up at the menu over the top of the counter, three people away from ordering and still unsure what to get.

It had been a long night - still was a long night, as Talon had yet to sleep - and cognitive thought was...difficult, at the moment. Even when it came to deciding which sickly sweet coffee concoction to buy.

He squinted at the curly writing detailing the variety of syrup shots they had on offer as he stepped forward with another customer stepping away to wait for their order, debating whether he wanted to rot through his teeth and blunt the bitterness of his much needed caffeine with caramel or vanilla; and was only pulled out of his transfixion at a soft, cheery voice greeting him.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

Talon dropped his eyes; and felt the last of his ability to think like a fully functioning human being grind to a halt as he took in the boy stood behind the counter, smiling up at him expectantly.

The blonde faltered, after a prolonged moment of eye contact, reaching to tuck a blonde curl back behind his ear and shifting his weight while he dropped his eyes, going pink across his cheeks. Talon made a concentrated effort to pull himself out of the stupor, clearing his throat and rubbing at the back of his neck; before he offered the boy his best, most roguish grin, watching the blonde go an even deeper shade of pink.

“Sorry. Uh...what’ll make up for getting no sleep in almost thirty six hours?”

He saw the quirk of curiosity in the cute barista’s eyes - and glanced at his nametag, a corner of his mouth quirking up - before  _ Tristan _ smiled, glancing at the board behind him before turning back to offer Talon a sheepish smile.

“I mean, it’s all coffee in the end. Is there anything in particular that you have a taste for?” The question was so innocent, so unexpecting of any dual meaning that Talon couldn’t resist the impulse to look Tristan up and down, the drag of his eyes slow and thoughtful, followed by him wetting his lips; and when he glanced back up at the blonde’s face his blush had darkened impossibly, and he’d lifted one hand to press his knuckles against his cheek in a effort to cool it.

He was entirely adorable. If Talon didn’t have his number by the time he left the shop he’d be kicking himself all week.

“Can I trust you to surprise me?” It was quite the move for Talon, especially when it brought with it the risk of his sweet, life saving coffee being potentially ruined by the admittedly pretty barista; but if the brief, intrigued smile was anything to go by, he’d made the right decision, and the blonde nodded hesitantly before reaching to claim a take away cup and a marker.

“I, um. Sure? What’s your name?”

It was tempting to tease him a little more, see if he could get that blush to darken again or coax laughter out of him; but Talon took pity on the cute boy, smiling back at him and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Talon.”

-

“And you failed to get his number?”

Talon shot the woman stood beside him a disparaging, unamused look, and rolled his eyes when she just smirked back at him, before returning to resting his forearms on the banister overlooking the rest of the gym, staring listlessly at the handful of people making use of the equipment downstairs.

Quinn knocked her shoulder against his, and gulped down some more of her water before she continued.

“This isn’t exactly standard for you, though, Talon. I think we both know you find it hard to resist a pretty face, and you are all about gettin’ the dick as often as possible, but you don’t usually get hung up on strangers, and you really never struck me as the ‘sighing wistfully over a cute barista’ type.”

“I am not  _ sighing wistfully _ ,” Talon protested, scowling at her; and when she just grinned back at him he sighed, and looked away again, “I just...he was really fucking cute, okay? Ass you could bounce a coin off, too, so  _ forgive me _ for kicking myself for not managing to get his number.”

He could feel Quinn’s eyes on the side of his face, and resolved to ignore her before dropping his head between his shoulders when she spoke again.

“Does it really only take a nice ass to make you go soft, Talon? That’s real fuckin’ tragic.”

He shut his eyes, and let out a breath; before pushing off the bannister and turning back to face her.

“Put your fucking gloves back on, Q.”

Quinn laughed at him -  _ cackled _ \- before obediently tugging her boxing gloves back on.

-

Talon sank a little more into the booth, and tried to pretend he wasn’t avidly watching the counter in anticipation of a very specific blonde head of hair appearing behind the machines.

He didn’t have a problem. Whatever Quinn said, however much she teased and no matter how many soft, pitying looks he got from Mhèirì, he did not have a  _ problem _ , and there was nothing wrong with visiting a coffee shop more than once in a week.

Or twice.

Or...or every other day, for the last week and a bit. Not when it was so close and convenient to the shelter, anyway.

He fiddled restlessly with his coffee cup - empty, now, and having been full of a basic vanilla latte rather than whatever it was Tristan made him whenever he was in. He still needed to find out what he put in it that made it so  _ good _ . That, and he needed his  _ fucking number _ \- before sighing and letting go of it, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes tightly.

This was dumb. This whole  _ crush _ he had going, the whole semi-stalking a cute stranger at his place of work thing? It was so  _ fucking _ dumb. He’d thought he was past this shit, that he’d grown out of it a while ago.

He jumped when something dropped noisily onto his table, eyes snapping open; only to stare, struck dumb by what he found.

Tristan shifted his weight awkwardly, before settling into the very end of the booth, right where he’d just dropped a stack of textbooks. He looked uncertain, the customer-ready smile banished with obvious nerves, but after a moment he scooted a little closer to Talon around the booth, and offered him a soft, sheepish smile.

Talon’s heart did something dumb and flip-adjacent, and he struggled not to wheeze out loud like some fucking imbecile.

“So. You come to the shop a lot. And I think you keep trying to gather the courage to ask for my phone number and failing. So I figured I would just come and give it to you, to save you the effort.”

A very large part of Talon’s ego shrivelled up and died at Tristan’s words, and he rubbed at an eye with one hand, muttering an exhausted  _ fuck _ under his breath; before Tristan kept talking, and Talon peered back up at him, intrigued the more he went on.

“I’m not really very good at...well, people, I suppose. Customer service is easy, I just...smile, and reel off the script. But actually having a conversation with someone, and picking up on  _ hints _ ...I fail at that. A lot. I didn’t actually realised you were being more than just polite until one of my coworkers told me. I’m. I’m sorry, if you thought I was blowing you off, or uninterested. I am very interested. You’re very attractive. I’m just bad at...social stuff. Sorry.” 

There was a sweet earnestness to his expression, and he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth when he’d finished speaking, brow creased like he was genuinely worried he’d offended Talon by being oblivious; and Talon’s heart did another  _ thing _ before he cleared his throat, and offered Tristan his best and most roguish grin.

“I’ll forgive you not realising I’ve been flirting my ass off for the last week and a half if you forgive the fact it’s a  _ little bit _ creepy how much I’ve been hanging around in the hopes of getting to see you,” he bargained; and Tristan’s smile was practically luminous, his lovely face flooding with warmth before he nodded his head vigorously, and then slid a napkin toward Talon.

Talon glanced down at it, and blinked when he saw the number scrawled across it in marker pen.

“My phone number. I was thinking of staying so we could talk now, but I have an essay on the mourning rituals of death cults in South Asia that I have to finish at home, so you should call me so we can go on a date.”

The sentence contained so much information that it took Talon a little while to puzzle through it, trying to process each individual part; before he took the napkin, and grinned back at Tristan, reaching with his other hand to tuck a curl back out of his face, and feeling reassured it was the right move when the boy went pink and dropped his eyes, a corner of his mouth pulling up in a shy smile.

“We can do that.”

-

“So is now too soon to call, or…?”

Talon was delighted by the soft giggle that came through the speaker of his phone, and watched through the window of the coffee shop when Tris glanced back, still outside where he’d just left and now with his phone pressed to his ear.

“How does Thursday sound to you, Tristan?”

The blonde went pink all over again, and even from his Talon could see him bite at his bottom lip.

“ _ Call me Tris. And I’ll text you my address, Talon _ .”


End file.
